A Fenchurch Christmas Carol
by GeneHuntress
Summary: Gene Hunt really needs to learn the error of his ways. Before it's too late ...
1. Chapter 1

Daft little festive idea that sprang into my head while I've been laid up with a lousy cold and wouldn't leave me alone till I started writing it. Hope you enjoy.

Sadly, I don't own anything to do with Ashes, although I wish I did. Gene Hunt in my stocking this year would be a particularly pleasant surprise …

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**A Fenchurch Christmas Carol**

**Chapter 1**

Gene Hunt hated Christmas Eve almost as much as he hated the big day itself. The happy smiling faces, the sense of anticipation, Chris getting over-excited and everyone wanting to bunk off early. It was the same every bloody year. He crossed his arms, feet up on the desk, trademark pout firmly in place and brooded, watching Alex and Shaz sharing a joke. Alex looked relaxed and happy, eyes bright, face glowing and his frown deepened. What was wrong with them all? It was only another day, after all.

He couldn't wait to get out of there, pick up a curry and head home to watch some crap TV and get paralytic on the sofa. With a bit of luck he'd sleep through the whole thing and not wake up till Boxing Day, when he could get pissed all over again. Result. He sighed, watching Alex approach the office. It was almost beer o'clock, and he knew what was coming.

She stood by the desk, arms crossed, smiling down at him and he hardened his heart yet again.

"Something I can do for yer, Drake?"

"We're all off to Luigi's for a couple of drinks, just wondered if you'd be joining us? There'll be mulled wine and carols, apparently. Sounds lovely, doesn't it?"

His gaze roamed over her perfect features and something twisted inside him.

"No, actually. Sounds like my idea of hell. Now if yer'll excuse me, I've got some work to finish off before I head 'ome."

He looked down at the papers spread out in front of him, but not before he saw her face fall.

"Oh. Well, that's a shame, Guv. You'd probably enjoy it if you gave it a chance."

She headed for the door, and then paused and turned back to him.

"The offer's still open for tomorrow if you change your mind. Chris and Shaz are both coming, and Ray's decided to join us too. There'll be plenty of food and drink, and you wouldn't have to lift a finger. Well, maybe just to pull the odd cracker or two."

Their eyes met and he saw something in her expression he just couldn't put his finger on. A flicker of hope, maybe?

"And what makes yer think I want ter spend my Christmas Day with two daft birds, a prat with a bad perm and that complete twat out there?"

Chris had sprig of mistletoe pinned to his fly and was gyrating his hips with a hopeful expression while a blushing Shaz tried to shove him out of the door.

Gene saw the flash of hurt in her eyes and could have bitten his tongue off, but it was too late. She shrugged her shoulders.

"Suit yourself, Gene. Enjoy the day anyway."

He watched her behind as she sashayed out in those tight jeans, and cursed himself for behaving like a complete idiot yet again. He could have just said no politely, he didn't have to upset her. He sighed heavily, looking out at the now deserted CID. Might as well get that takeaway and head home.

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He parked the Quattro up outside the house, collected the food from the passenger seat and headed inside. It was bitterly cold, and a few stray flakes of snow were falling from a leaden sky as he approached the front door, thinking how dark and unwelcoming his house looked. It could use a lick of paint, but he could never be bothered. What was the point? It wasn't as if he ever had visitors. A little voice at the back of his head reminded him that he never invited anybody, but he shrugged it off.

He scrabbled around in his pocket for the key, but as he went to put it in the lock he got the shock of his life. The doorknocker seemed to have suddenly developed a perm. He blinked a couple of times.

"Raymondo?"

He closed his eyes tightly for a second and then reopened one very slowly. Just a humble knocker again. Either it had been a trick of the light, or he'd been working too hard recently. All he needed was a chicken madras, a couple of bottles of vino and two days catching up on sleep and he'd be as good as new.

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Later found him snoozing on the sofa, full of curry and most of the way down a bottle of red. There were easily enough leftovers in the fridge to feed him again the following day, plus he'd stocked up on plenty of booze, so he could finally relax. The wood burning stove was throwing out some heat now and the living room looked almost homely with the glow from the flames. The TV was flickering away in the corner, but he wasn't really watching it.

His mind turned to Alex and the others drinking mulled wine and singing carols, and he felt a slight pang before he pushed the mental picture away and poured another large glass. Bah humbug, he thought, and pouted. He was happy in his own company, always had been, always would be. He could rely on himself. Other people just let you down and hurt you, if you let them in. Keep 'em at a distance, that was his motto. He was the Manc Lion and he didn't need anybody else. Lonely? Gene Hunt? Never.

He must have nodded off because when he woke the stove had died right down and the room felt a lot colder. It was darker too, as the TV signal had clearly cut out and there was just the hiss of a snowstorm flickering on the screen. He shivered, wondering what had woken him, then almost jumped out of his skin as an eerie moaning issued from the television and the picture leapt back into life. Suddenly he was staring at the ghostly face of Ray Carling and his jaw dropped, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Raymondo? What the hell are yer doin' on the telly? Jesus, the BBC cutbacks 'ave got completely out 'o hand …"

The face of his DI peered back at him unseeing.

"Guv. Guv? Can yer hear me?"

He turned to someone out of vision.

"Yer sure he can hear me? Only I can't hear him."

There was a pause, as though he was listening to the reply, and then he shrugged and turned back to stare out at Gene.

"Well, if yer sure."

He cleared his throat.

"Guuuvvv … Guuvvvv … listen to me …"

His shoulders slumped and he sighed, lighting a ciggie.

"Look, I can't do all this spooky-dooky bollocks, OK? I've been sent ter tell yer ter get yer act together or yer gonna end up old 'n lonely. And full of regrets …"

He turned back to whoever was prompting him.

"Let me do this me own way, will yer, and stop mumbling in me ear."

He faced Gene again.

"Look at me, Guv. A different bird every week. Footloose and fancy free. And am I happy? Am I hell. You've got a chance at something better, and yer know it. Just look into yer heart and yer'll find the answer."

He glanced over his shoulder again.

"I resent that. I do not sound like a bad Eighties pop song."

Clearing his throat again, he stared hard at Gene.

"Yer goin' ter be visited by three spirits, Guv. And I'm not talking whiskey, brandy and vodka. They'll show yer the way forwards. Expect the first one on the stroke of midnight, OK? Good luck."

He took a long drag from his ciggie and the screen suddenly switched to a schmaltzy Christmas sing-along special.

Gene shook himself and poured another large glass of wine with shaking hands. Either that curry was having a very strange effect or he ought to give up the booze for a while. If he was going to start hallucinating, why Ray? Why not Britt Ekland in the nude? A sudden memory of Alex in that red bra flashed back into his mind, and he pushed it away. That way lay madness.

He checked his watch. Eleven-thirty. Time to hit the sack before he started seeing Santa and bloody Rudolph trotting down the street. He opened the curtains, surprised to see a couple of inches of snow lying on the ground and more still falling. His heart lifted, despite himself. He couldn't remember the last time there'd been a white Christmas, must be years back. A vision of himself as a lad playing in the snow on Christmas morning sprang into his head, and he knocked back half a glass of wine before grabbing the bottle and heading upstairs. Not the time to reopen old wounds, way too painful at this time of year. Better to drown 'em out in a haze of alcohol ...

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I love getting reviews, they make my day - so in the words of the Gene Genie, don't hold back!


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to everybody for reading and reviewing. The next chapter's a bit angsty, but I promise it will get better for poor Gene. Eventually …

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**Chapter 2**

Gene was sound asleep, still fully clothed and sitting up in bed, when the sound of bells tolling midnight woke him. Which was strange, because there wasn't a church anywhere near.

"What the hell? Mus' be dreamin' again …"

He dozed as the last chime sounded and silence returned.

"Guv?"

His eyes flew open, he shot backwards in surprise, and promptly fell off the bed. Slowly he sat up and peered gingerly over the rumpled bedclothes, rubbing his elbow. He blinked several times, hoping he was seeing things again.

"Tyler? Is that you?"

Sam grinned, enjoying Gene's discomfort.

"It's me alright, Guv. How've you been?"

Gene stood and grabbed the half-empty bottle, taking a long swig.

"How've I been? Just fine, until you and Carling started plaguing the bloody life out of me. Look, I know I'm hallucinating, Sam. Can't yer just bugger off 'n let me get some kip?"

Sam stood, trying to remove the bottle from Gene's grasp. There was a slightly undignified struggle, and then the younger man emerged victorious.

"This isn't helping, Guv. But I can, if you let me."

Gene squinted at him.

"So yer the ghost of Christmas Past, then? Never heard such a load of old bollocks."

Sam smiled, looking at Gene with something close to affection.

"Seems I arrived in the nick of time. Trust me, Guv. Now close your eyes …"

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Gene's head spun and then he felt Sam's hand on his arm and slowly opened his eyes, blinking at the sudden brightness. He was standing in a snow covered street, the sun was shining and a couple of little girls were building a snowman. There was a shout behind him, and he turned to see a crowd of boys having a snowball fight, all shining faces and laughter. He looked closer, and suddenly clutched Sam's shoulder for support.

"Here yer go, Gene."

One boy handed over a snowball from a dwindling pile.

"Ta, Stu. Let's kill 'em …"

They rejoined the battle, and Gene felt a tear spring to his eyes as he watched his younger self and his kid brother jumping up and down with excitement, cold and wet, but exhilarated.

He watched young Gene turn to Stu, and saw his shoulders slump.

"'Spose we better go in. Dad'll be back from the pub an' it'll be time for dinner soon."

Stu shuffled his feet, his face clouded.

"Shouldn' get on the wrong side of him. Not today."

His face brightened.

"Christmas dinner though, Gene. He'll stuff himself, then he'll just kip. It'll be alright, yer'll see."

He patted his elder brother awkwardly on the shoulder, and the two boys headed indoors.

Gene watched them go and drew a shuddering breath, hands thrust deep in his pockets. His voice was gruff.

"Why yer doin' this ter me, Sam? Rakin' up the past? Won't change anythin' …"

Sam said nothing, just touched his arm again.

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Gene opened his eyes slowly and found himself back in the kitchen of his childhood home. He and Stu were with his mother, wide-eyed at the lovely food appearing out of the oven and helping to set the table. He watched his younger self proudly carrying out a bowl of roast potatoes, and then shrank back against the wall as his gaze fell on his father, slumped on the settee in the living room, clearly somewhat the worse for wear.

His mother bustled about, making sure everything was just right, and then the three of them sat down, followed by his father, and Gene held his breath, somehow hoping it would be alright, even though he remembered every detail.

He felt Sam's hand on his arm and he closed his eyes, dread in his heart. When he reopened them, it was later in the day. He and Stu were cowering against the wall, and his mother was the only thing standing between his father and them. Her voice was shaking, and he knew she was afraid, but she stood her ground.

"Leave 'em alone, Jack, they're only boys. Just bein' a bit high-spirited, that's all. It's Christmas Day, after all."

His father was swaying and he had that look in his eyes. Gene knew it all too well. He began to undo his belt, and Gene felt the old feeling of terror creeping over him again.

"Get out o' me way, woman. Them lads need ter be taught a lesson …"

His mother refused to move, protecting them with her body, and Gene winced as his father's fist flew out, catching her square on the jaw. He covered his face with his hands, and his voice was broken, pleading.

"Enough, Sam … I've seen enough …"

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This time, he was back in his marital home watching his wife of a few months as she checked on something in the oven. He heard the back door shut, and his younger self appeared. She called over her shoulder.

"Yer early, luv. Dinner won't be more than half an hour, though."

She squealed as he wrapped his arms round her and nuzzled her neck.

"Good. Just time for some starters first …"

He spun her round to face him and then walked her a couple of paces backwards, pinning her against the wall as his lips descended on hers. She sighed against his mouth, arching her back as her fingers stroked through his hair. One hand strayed up from her waist to fondle a breast.

"Bedroom, woman. Or shall I just have yer here …"

She pushed him away, her face flushed.

"Gene! The neighbours might see!"

He grinned wickedly, running his fingers up her thigh.

"Good. Him next door might learn a thing or two."

She ducked away from him and ran upstairs, and he chased after her, dropping his jacket to the floor on route.

Gene sighed. He'd forgotten how happy they'd been at the start. And he closed his eyes again, knowing what was to come.

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She was in the kitchen again, only this time she was scraping a burnt meal off a plate and into the bin. Gene watched as she lit a ciggie and moved to sit at the table, thinking how sad and careworn she looked suddenly.

There was a crash as the back door slammed shut, and an older, more overweight version of himself staggered into the room. She barely glanced up.

"Have yer any idea what time it is? Yer dinner's in the bin."

The other Gene weaved his way towards her, bending to kiss her awkwardly on the cheek.

"S'OK, luv. Got a pie at the pub."

She wrinkled her nose up.

"God, yer reek of fags 'n booze. And perfume. Yer've been with that little tart again, haven't yer?"

He tried to focus on her and failed miserably, falling back onto the sofa.

"Don' know what yer mean, luv. There's no-one else …"

She took another long drag and blew the smoke out slowly, watching as if drifted up towards the ceiling.

"I can't do this any more, Gene. I'm leavin' yer, movin' back in with me mother. Tomorrow …"

There was a loud snore from the sofa. He was out for the count, and as she looked down at him her face softened.

"D'yer know what the worst thing is, Gene? I still luv yer, even now. Must need me bloody head examining."

She reached forwards as if to smooth a lock of hair back from his brow, but her hand froze in mid-air and she withdrew it shakily. A solitary tear trickled down her cheek.

Watching, Gene felt like his heart had been ripped out all over again. After she'd lost the baby he hadn't known what to do, how to comfort her. She was so far away, didn't want him to touch her, hold her and instead of just being there for her, he'd spent all his time at work or in the pub. And almost imperceptibly they'd grown further and further apart, neither knowing how to cross the divide. Finally she'd given up and found another bloke, one who didn't live for work and the next drink.

He wrapped an arm round his face, almost overwhelmed by the feelings assaulting him, and Sam touched his arm again.

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"Open your eyes, Guv. It's OK …"

He felt raw, vulnerable, exposed. He lowered his arm and felt the bedclothes under his fingers. He was back in his own room, and there was Sam sitting opposite, his expression filled with compassion.

"I'm sorry, Gene. It was … necessary. You have to understand why you've become the way you are. And realise that you can change. I have to go now, but the next spirit will be with you on the stroke of one."

He stood, clutching Gene by the shoulder.

"It was good to see you again, Guv."

Gene blinked, and Sam was gone. He scratched his head and rescued the bottle of wine, taking a long gulp. Christ, this was turning into some Christmas …

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I know, I know. Poor Gene. Any volunteers to cheer him up? You'll have to get past me first … ;)  
>Love to know what you think, as ever. And I promise it will get better for him soon!<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks to everyone for the kind reviews, it's much appreciated. Shorter chapter with a little bit of light relief this time …

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**Chapter 3**

He was sitting at the kitchen table nursing a glass of whiskey when the next ghost announced itself by tripping over something in the hallway.

"Ow! Bugger …"

Gene looked heavenwards, and raised his glass in a mock toast.

"Skelton? Is that really the best yer could manage?"

He sat back and crossed his arms as his DC arrived, dressed in the garb of the Grim Reaper, with a scythe tucked under his arm. The robes were too long, which explained why he kept tripping up every so often, and there was every possibility one of them could lose a limb very shortly the way he was wielding the scythe.

Gene ducked in the nick of time and waved him to a seat.

"Fer God's sake step away from the lethal weapon, Skelton, before yer do one of us a serious damage. Whiskey?"

Chris propped the scythe against the fridge and joined Gene at the table, accepting the proffered glass.

"Ta, Guv. This hauntin's thirsty work."

Gene rolled his eyes.

"So. Ghost of Christmas Present, I presume? Where's mine, then?"

Chris looked non-plussed for a second, then a grin spread over his face.

"Oh, I geddit. Nice one, Guv."

He raised his glass and downed the measure in one.

"Spose we better get on then. Yer ready?"

Gene sighed heavily.

"Do I 'ave a choice?"

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When he opened his eyes this time, he was in CID a couple of days previously, watching himself sitting with his feet up on the desk as Bolly strutted her stuff. Psycho-bollocks, he thought, but he had to admit she was good, sticking like glue to the subject despite all the interruptions and piss-taking. He knew it wasn't easy for her, a posh bird in the midst of a load of cynical blokes, but she never gave up. And she looked beautiful, as usual. And way out of his league. He sighed.

Chris touched his arm and his head spun briefly as the scene changed again. Now he was sat at the bar in Luigi's and she was gazing into his eyes, pissed and horny. God, she looked so gorgeous, and she clearly wanted him. So why did he keep walking away? He was being chivalrous, he told himself, all the time knowing that he was actually scared witless. Of messing things up, of making himself vulnerable. Of admitting he actually cared.

The room spun for a couple of seconds, and he realised it was now Christmas Eve. Luigi's looked like Santa's grotto, and he watched as Alex sat alone at their table looking lost as all the others sang raucous carols and downed too much mulled wine.

A glass of champagne arrived on the table in front of her, and she looked up at Luigi in confusion. He indicated a man sat at the bar, who raised his own glass and nodded to her. He was young and dark, good-looking in a smarmy way, and Gene felt a stab of jealousy, his hands bunching into fists. Why hadn't he gone with them?

Chris watched his reaction.

"Admit it, Guv. Yer luv her, don' yer?"

Gene pouted, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Just don' want ter see her get taken advantage of by some wanker again. Bloody woman's a liability …"

Chris grinned to himself and touched Gene's elbow, and suddenly they were back in CID earlier that same evening. Gene watched himself snapping at her, and then saw the expression on Alex's face as she walked out of his office, and his stomach twisted oddly. Her disappointment was palpable, and he could see her eyes were bright with unshed tears. She dodged into the ladies, taking a deep breath and blinking a few times before starting to fix her make up.

"Sod you, Gene Hunt …"

She said it under her breath, but he heard every word, and suddenly there was a lump in his throat.

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Chris touched his shoulder and suddenly they were back in his own kitchen. His DC polished off another decent measure of whiskey before standing to leave, grabbing his scythe and swaying gently.

"Right, Guv. Best be off now. Don't forget, the last one's due at two."

Gene nodded, pouring himself another large measure.

"As if I could …"

Chris turned to leave, tripping over his feet in the process, and the scythe swung dangerously close to Gene's head.

"Christ, Skelton, be careful where yer wavin' that thing. Nearly gave me a new partin'…"

"Sorry, Guv."

Gene shook his head in despair, listening to Chris's slow progress towards the front door, punctuated by sundry bumps and cries of pain. So. Two down, one to go …

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Bit slow on the uptake, but I think he's beginning to get the idea! I'd love to hear what you think, as ever.


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks again for all the kind reviews – it does make my day when people enjoy something I've written. Here's the next instalment …

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**Chapter 4**

Gene decided to decamp to the sofa in the living room with his whiskey. Might as well sit around and wait in comfort, after all.

He must have nodded off again, because he was woken by a nervous cough.

"Erm … Guv?"

He prised his eyes open slowly and then blinked a couple of times in disbelief. In front of him stood Shaz, apparently doing a good impression of the fairy from the top of the Christmas tree. His lips twitched in amusement and she reddened, shuffling her feet in embarrassment.

"Please don't laugh, Guv. It wasn't my choice!"

He stuck to his trademark pout, feeling quite blasé about this haunting business now.

"Christmas Future, I presume? Well, I don't 'spose it can' get any worse. Lead on …"

He stood, and Shaz touched him on the arm.

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When he opened his eyes they were standing in Alex's flat on Christmas Day afternoon. Chris and Ray were sprawled out on the sofa clutching their stomachs while Shaz cleared the table and Alex started on the washing-up. She was gazing out of the window, miles away, when Shaz's voice made her jump.

"You alright, Ma'am? You were a bit quiet during lunch."

Alex smiled, but Gene could see what an effort it was, and his heart constricted.

"I'm fine, Shaz. Just being silly. And it's Alex, remember?"

"Sorry, Ma'am … Alex. And I wish he was here too."

"Who?"

Shaz looked at her knowingly.

"The Guv, Ma'am. Who else? I know you were hoping he'd turn up."

Alex shrugged, trying to look nonchalant.

"Don't know why. He's a grumpy old pain in the arse, he'd probably have spoiled things anyway."

Shaz grinned.

"Maybe, but he's also drop-dead gorgeous, so at least we'd have had someone to drool over. Unlike those two through there."

Alex was intrigued.

"You think he's good-looking then?"

Shaz leaned closer and lowered her voice, but Gene could still hear.

"Oh yeah. There's just something about him, isn't there? I so would …"

"Shaz!"

Alex pretended to be shocked, but she couldn't hide a smile.

Gene looked down at the Ghost of Christmas Future, who was now the colour of a beetroot, and raised an enquiring eyebrow. The ghost shuffled her feet, clearing her throat awkwardly as the other Shaz continued.

"Any woman with a pulse would fancy him, but it's obvious he only wants you. And you feel the same, don't you?"

Gene waited for a denial from Alex that never came. Instead, she sighed heavily.

"So why isn't he here then, Shaz?"

"Because he's afraid. The thought of letting anyone in again makes him feel vulnerable. Hang in there, Ma'am ... Alex. He'll realise what he's missing eventually."

Alex smiled.

"Thanks, Shaz. You don't miss much, do you?"

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Gene's head was spinning even before Shaz touched his arm again. Had Bolly just admitted she wanted him? She certainly hadn't denied it. A little flame of hope flickered in his lonely heart.

When he opened his eyes again they were in Luigi's. His future self was sat at their usual table alone and brooding, and Alex was drinking champagne at the bar with the smarmy-looking bloke from Christmas Eve. As Gene watched she giggled at something the other man said, and his stomach churned with jealousy. His other self downed the remainder of his drink and left without a backwards glance, and her eyes followed him, the disappointment showing in her face. It was obvious she'd been hoping he'd interrupt, and he'd missed all the signs.

"Look at her, Guv. It's you she wants. Do you still doubt it?"

He looked down at the floor, his hands thrust deep in his pockets.

"Even if it's true, I'd only mess it up. It's what I do. Better to keep a distance and avoid all the pain …"

Shaz looked up at him, and he saw the concern in her eyes.

"Please say you don't mean that. You've no idea how much you're going to need her on your side. Things are going to get tough for you, Guv. Really tough."

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She touched his arm again, and when he opened his eyes they were in his office. His future self was sat at his desk, glowering at some tall, greasy-looking bloke with glasses who was monopolising Alex. Something about him made Gene's hackles rise and an uncomfortable shiver ran down his spine.

Shaz leaned into him, and he felt her shudder.

"That's DCI Keats, Guv. Watch out for him, he'll try his level best to turn her against you."

Keats mumbled something in Alex's ear and she glanced over at Gene. He saw the mistrust in her eyes and it was like a knife twisting in his guts. Keats just smiled at him triumphantly.

The room spun, and the next time he opened his eyes it was to see Alex's tear-stained face as she kissed him tenderly on the lips and walked slowly away. He wanted to run after her, hold onto her, beg her not to leave, but he was rooted to the spot. The sense of desolation and loneliness was overwhelming.

"Take me back, Shaz. I'll change, I promise. I can't lose her …"

His voice cracked, and the world went black as he lost consciousness.

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He woke with a jolt and found himself curled up in a ball on the living-room floor. The wood-burner had died right down, but when he stood and peered through the curtains it was dark and snow was still falling steadily. He checked his watch. Just after midnight. A huge smile spread over his face. It was still Christmas Eve, or rather the start of Christmas Day. He'd been given another chance.

Get some kip, Genie Boy, and then go and show her how you feel before it's too late. His heart soared at the thought. The TV was still on and as he scrabbled around for the remote, he didn't notice the dying seconds of an old black and white film. As he reached for the off-button, Scrooge was strolling off into a snowy Christmas morning with Tiny Tim hoisted high on his shoulders …

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By Jove, I think he's got it! Well, I think he'd like to, at least …  
>Hope everybody's still enjoying.<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

Last chapter – thanks so everyone who's stuck with it, and for all the favourable feedback. It really is appreciated.

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**Chapter 5**

Alex was just in the middle of preparing the turkey when she heard the knock at the door. She glanced at her watch. Just after ten. Shaz was a bit early, she was sure they'd said elevenish. Wiping her hands, she went to answer it, and the "Merry Christmas" died on her lips when she saw Gene standing there in the snow, looking somewhat embarrassed. She blinked a couple of times in disbelief.

"Guv! What a nice surprise!"

He looked different, somehow. Happier, more relaxed.

"Is the … um … invite still open, Bols? 'Fraid I could only manage some wine an' a couple 'o boxes of After Eights."

She could hardly stop herself grinning from ear to ear. He was actually here!

"Of course it is. And you can never have too much wine. Or too many After Eights. Sorry, where are my manners? Come in, you must be freezing."

Stop babbling, Alex. She moved past to let him in, taking his black coat from him and practically drooling when she saw those long legs encased in jeans. The blue lambswool jumper set off his eyes perfectly, and she had a sudden urge to snuggle into his chest. She'd never really seen Gene dressed in anything other than work clothing and she had to admit she approved of the off-duty look.

"Sorry, I'm just in the kitchen wrestling with the turkey. Is it too early for a drink?"

He grinned.

"Never too early for a drink on Christmas morning, Bols. And I'll come and give you a hand."

She turned, hands on her hips.

"OK, who are you and what have you done with Gene Hunt?"

He pouted, pretending to be affronted.

"I'm very domesticated, I'll 'ave yer know…"

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Alex decided she needed to pinch herself. Of maybe somebody else did. The Guv was sitting in her kitchen being extremely charming and peeling potatoes. And he'd already finished the carrots, parsnips and sprouts. Did he have a twin brother that nobody had told her about?

"Gene, you've done a great job. The others are due in five, and there's virtually nothing left for Shaz to do now. Go and make yourself comfortable while I finish up here."

"Quite enjoyed it, actually. Company wasn't bad, either."

The way he was looking at her was having a very strange effect on her knees, and she almost had to hang on to the table for support when he left the kitchen.

"Alex? 'Ave yer got a sec?"

She finished drying her hands, and went to join him.

"I'm all yours."

Oh God, what a choice of phrase.

He was standing in the middle of the room and as she approached he glanced up, and then back down at her with a hesitant smile.

"Well, it is traditional …"

She looked up, and her heart began to hammer in her chest. She'd forgotten all about the bunch of mistletoe she'd hung up, more in hope than expectation the night before. Moving as though in a dream, she took two steps to close the gap between them, near enough now to feel the heat from his body. Steely blue eyes gazed down into hazel green and the world seemed to hold its breath. Slowly he moved a hand up to cup her chin and her lids fluttered closed as he leaned in and his lips gently brushed hers. He pulled back, searching her eyes for permission to continue.

"Gene …"

Her voice was low and breathy, and it was all the confirmation he needed, his mouth capturing hers as he pulled her in close and she wound her arms round his neck. For a few seconds they were lost in each other, and they both jumped when the knock at the door came. He rested his forehead against hers and sighed.

"Bugger. That was just gettin' interestin'."

She grinned.

"Hold that thought for later …"

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Christmas dinner was a noisy wine-fuelled affair, and Alex didn't think she'd had a better time since she found herself back in the Eighties. Gene was on excellent form, and every time their eyes met a thrill ran through her at the memory of his kiss and the possibilities for later.

Shaz ordered Alex and Gene to relax while the rest of them cleared the table and washed up, but Gene insisted on pulling her under the mistletoe first, pecking her on the lips before whispering in her ear.

"Just so yer know – I would too …"

"Guv!"

Shaz blushed bright red and scurried off to the kitchen, and Alex raised an eyebrow at Gene as he sat down next to her on the sofa. He grinned.

"Just a private joke."

He fell back against the cushions and stretched his legs out, and she curled in next to him.

"Shattered, Bols. Need a nap."

After half a minute his breathing altered, and she looked down into his face, relaxed now in sleep. She stroked a lock of hair affectionately back off his forehead thinking how much younger he looked, and he mumbled in his sleep.

"Mmmm … luv yer, Bols."

Her mouth dropped open in surprise, and then a huge smile lit up her face.

"And I love you too, Gene, more than you know."

She dropped a gentle kiss on his lips before snuggling contentedly into his chest, and his arm went round her.

When he was sure she was asleep, Gene tentatively opened one eye. She'd said it back, so it must be true. He kissed the top of her head, breathing her in, a fierce joy in his heart. Better let her get some sleep, she was going to need all her energy for what he had planned later. He grinned wickedly to himself and dropped off in seconds.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Shaz came back she found the two of them sound asleep, limbs entwined as though it was the most natural thing in the world. She beckoned Ray and Chris, warning them to be quiet, and Ray's mouth dropped open.

"Bloody Hell."

Chris gawped.

"D'ya think they're … yer know …"

Shaz pushed Chris towards the door.

"Not yet, but I think they soon will be. Come on, time for us to make ourselves scarce. Ray, we're invited for supper with my mum and dad if you want join us."

Ray took one last look at the sleeping couple, shaking his head and grinning.

"The lucky buggar …"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Gene woke it was dark and he lay still, quite contented to hold a sleeping Alex in his arms for a while longer. He thought back over the events of the last twenty-four hours, amazed at how things had changed so dramatically in such a short time. Thank God his subconscious had come up with that weird dream, he might never have had the courage to make a move otherwise.

It had all been a dream, of course. Hadn't it? He snorted. Ghosts? Don't be stupid, Hunt. There's no such thing …

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

And there we leave them. Lucky old Alex I say - hope she's got her best undies on!  
>If you enjoyed it, I'd love to hear from you. I think there may be another little festive offering in the pipeline before Christmas. Work and life permitting …<p> 


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